Page 95 of Tempting Fate

“He’s in good hands.,” Charlie offers before my man has a chance to respond. “And the longer it takes, the better the news will be.”

The deep breath I hear Zeke take tells me he doesn’t agree with her optimistic outlook.

I’m not sure I do either.

There was so much blood.

Too much blood.

The thought of a life without Fret in it pushes me closer to breaking point. I wrench myself free of the descending cloud of doom, concentrating again on my younger brothers. Wyatt and Nate were much more sensible in their seating choices. Along with Slash’s little brother, Hunter, they’ve commandeered the long bench that dominates the wall opposite the doors, content to scroll their phones while we wait. The three teenagers sporadically murmur to each other, but on the whole, they are mainly interested in their phone screens and visually checking in with Zeke for silent comfort every now and then.

Not once do they spare a glance toward Dad.

It’s a lack of concern that our father returns.

Huddled in the far corner with Joker and Bear, my dad keeps his back to the door and his attention on the two Shamrocks clustered around him. Their presence is a conundrum. Borderline insulting. Neither man has a reason for being here outside of Dad. They’re not close with Fret, they aren’t part of the team of brothers Slash sent to man all the entrances. They have no part to play in our desperate wait, aside from assisting my father in his efforts to isolate himself from his family.

While the three men talk between themselves in low voices, Nadia stands a few feet away, fidgeting with her hair and straightening her clothes, while she pretends not to shoot quick glances my way when she thinks I’m not looking.

The silence that’s dawned in the wake of Charlie’s ambitiously buoyant response becomes oppressive.

A lump invades my throat.

The need to cry burns behind my eyes.

Zeke hugs me tighter.

Slash’s thumb moves back and forth over my knuckles.

Every motion of the clock on the wall pushes me closer to breaking point.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick.

“I can’t deal with this,” I declare.

Without thinking, I press a kiss to the underside of Zeke’s scruffy jaw, then snaffle his wallet from the inside pocket of his cut. It’s such an ordinary thing to do, yet we both freeze, as the uncertainty that’s been between us since Alex’s bombshells and Fret’s shooting surfaces again.

Holding the black leather wallet aloft, an anniversary present from a couple years ago, I push through the awkwardness. “I’m going to get coffee… Zeke’s shout.”

Although his grip is too tight on my waist as he helps propel me to my feet, my fiancé plays along. “You know she’s goin’ all the way to the ground floor to get the good stuff. Speak now, or content yourself with the dishwater they try to pass off as caffeine up here.”

Opening my notes app, I type down their specific orders. When I reach my father, he simply inclines his head, silently ordering his usual—strong and black. Charlie doesn’t answer when I ask her what she wants, staring off into the distance like she can’t hear me, but I know her well enough to already plan to grab her a camomile tea.

Whether or not she’ll drink it in her current state is the real question.

“I can walk down with you,” Bear suggests.

“Nah.” With a tight smile and a curt head shake, I tell him, “Sander’s coming with me.”

“What? When did I say that?” my brother splutters. “Jesus, I just played a game. My legs are fucked.”

I narrow my eyes at Sander in a silent plea for him to go along with me.

The last thing I need today is to be stuck in Bear’s company.

He might be Nadia’s old man, but I don’t particularly like him.

Since the day Bear first lobbed at the Shamrocks to request a patch over from a smaller, rival club three or so years ago, something about him has rubbed me the wrong way. He gives me the same vibes as Joker—sly and inauthentic.

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